


Lucy and the Bastard

by Tealtheycom_home



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Jealousy, Rough Sex, Smut, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-01-02 15:20:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21163802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tealtheycom_home/pseuds/Tealtheycom_home
Summary: Young Micah has a wife, who has a cat, who hates Micah, who hates useless wives. Hick-ups in a relationship, result in more hick-ups. Can these two put together a family reunion?





	1. Chapter 1

A woman waded across the yard with an empty basket. Snowflakes descended on her shoulders, hat and hair, melting her into the virgin white blankets. There were no sounds to be heard, beyond the dragging of her footsteps. It was much to her liking. The shape of a familiar building appeared right ahead.  
Inside, Lucy rested on a thick log, left behind by her husband, or whomever before him. An ax was laying on the floor, abandoned. To Lucy’s benefit, there were plenty of firewood, all stacked in layers upon each other. As she looked around, her moods were lifted. Her husband was a man, with some handling skills. With him, there was always an element of surprise, like right there, in the wood storage. Early in the morning, he’d made her blood boil, if only to keep her warm outside, where she was to complete the task of shoveling snow and getting the wood for the fire.

Despite their little burst of fire, Lucy caught herself smiling at the half-assed job in front of her. It might have been that way, but it was enough. It was not like he had no love for her, that would have been wrong. What they had, was their own dance. She might have not been the best homemaker, but pissing him off, she did just fine. They were alike in many ways, Lucy thought.  
The basket was filled with sliced logs. There were just enough smaller ones, for Lucy to carry back to the small cabin. She tore bark into thick slices and stuck them in the basket. Before she left, she hid the ax it behind the wood pile. The saw she had placed there a week ago, tightened her face into an infernal smirk. “Ass,” she sighed and picked up the basket.  
The trip back was a hell ride. The weight of the basket, sunk her feet deeper into the snow. Skin in goosebumps, she pushed through. Snow invited itself under her coat and soaked her dress. Lucy shivered. A gust slammed against her burning cheeks.  
“Is that all you’ve got! Bring it on! Goddamn winter…” Lucy shouted to the open air. Trees around the yard were swinging in the wind, and Lucy too was swinging her waist above the snow. She managed to drag herself to the shoveled path. It would vanish by night fall.

Kicking the snow off her boots, Lucy entered the cabin. The room was not yet freezing, but her breath came steaming through her nose. While she was catching her breath, wind dragged the door open again, creating a suctioning whistle in the corners of the house. She jumped out to the steps and grabbed the handle. She slammed the door as hard as she could and fastened the clasp. Panting Lucy, took the basket to the stove and opened the fire box. She placed some wood over the dying ember with frostbitten fingers. Adding some bark and a couple of blows, her task was completed.   
Lucy descended on a chair and removed her boots. She lit a cigarette, resting her feet against the chimney. She sighed in her mundane enjoyment. Three premium quality smokes left, she thought. Something soft, brushed the back of her hand. She looked down at the creature’s yellow eyes.  
“No food for you mister Hairbell. You’ll have to wait for the lord to come home,” she spoke to the cat in a soft tone. It meowed, imploring her. Its’ madam being in good moods, it received a long stroke along the spine. Lucy watched the cat settle on the floor, in front of the fire. The cigarette butt was tossed to the flames, as the woman of the house stretched herself. A peek at her pocket watch, told her it would be soon time to start preparing a meal.

“A’ight, let’s see… Carrots, yams… Where the hell are the potatoes!”  
“Meow!”  
“Shut up Hairbell, I’m trying to… Why the hell don’t we have potatoes? Canned beans, canned sweetcorn, canned everything I see… Let’s invite my brother over, Lucy! Oh, his wife is so perfect! She can do anything! Hey, Lucy, why not their kids too! Wouldn't that be a fun night!”   
Mister Hairbell listened to the swearing from the cellar, while wallowing in the comfort of the fire. Lucy made it up the stairs, with a lapful of things, most of which were the wrong kind, and dropped the load on the table. Mister Hairbell was startled and on its’ paws. It left the best spot of the house in displeasure and crawled under the bed.  
“Now, if I just get the kettle, boil water…” Lucy hadn’t noticed the pot on the stove. She looked at the potato peels on the counter, then at the kettle again. The pain in the ass object was knocked off the stove. Lucy watched water spill on the floorboards.

Like clockwork, the sound of clinging spurs from the door alerted Lucy. She made a quick turn, her blood so deliciously heated. Her husband was climbing up the steps. She flashed with disgust. The sudden pounding in her forehead, merged with the knocks on the door. Lucy was slow, making her way towards the knocks.  
“Lucy, it’s me,” her husband said. She tended to have the door unclasped, whenever she knew he was coming, but this time, the wind had swallowed all sounds from the yard. Her husband’s promises to fix the door frame, popped up from her memory. If he was left standing in the snow, it was his own damn fault.  
Lucy leaned her back against the wood, his fist pounding at the other side.  
“Lucy!”  
“Did you eat my potatoes last night?”  
“What… God damn it woman, open the door!”  
“Did you, or did you not?”

There was a moment of silence. He wasn’t pounding at the door anymore. Lucy lit another cigarette.  
“I was hungry.”  
“Micah! I was gonna make potato salad for tomorrow!”  
“How was I supposed to know!”  
“You could’ve asked!”  
“In the middle of the night? What kinda man needs to cook in the middle of the night?”  
“The kind with the useless wife… I’ve heard that one enough, you know! I was gonna cook today, but the bastard in my bed decided to eat the ingredients!”  
“Oh, oh, oh… I’m gonna show you a bastard! Open this door!”  
“No.”  
“Fine! You’ve been warned!”  
“I jammed the thing! Not that I have a husband to fix a door for me!”  
“No door’s gonna stop me!”  
“Sure! All I’m saying is, you might wanna get the ax!”

Lucy smirked at the cat, who had reappeared. Hairs pointed straight, it hissed at the commotion. She opened a window at the other side of the house.  
“Outside now, mister Hairbell! Go!” She directed the cat towards the fogged window. After a few attempts, the animal climbed on the frame and jumped out. Lucy laughed, imagining her husband wading through the buried path at the yard, then scavenging through the wood storage. Despite the obstacles in his way, Lucy didn’t have much time. Adrenaline pulsing through her veins, she tore the linen off the bed and threw them on the floor. She then picked up a bag from one of the hooks on the wall, and packed their money, hidden in between the strings. She had no time for personal items. All she cared about was her shotgun. She had a revolver on her belt too.  
Lucy dropped the things by the door and trashed the rest of the house in a frenzy. She was done with this God forsaken house and that bastard, huffing and puffing in the wood storage. Lucy stopped at the door and took one last look. A lonely carrot had rolled into a corner, the table was laying on the floor, curtains were torn down with the poles still attached to them. As a moment of clarity, she saw the ultimate solution in a bottle. Lamp oil.

“You can’t fool me, Lucy! I found it! I expected more from you!” Micah snarled through the door, while Lucy was consumed by her mission. She was pouring oil from the bottle, all around the room, laughing the entire time in blind rage. “I’m giving you one last chance, Lucy!”  
“Damn you, Micah Bell! You don’t have a clue who you’re dealing with!”  
“I warned you! You’re getting the spanking of a lifetime!”  
“Darling, remember to dig my eyes out, while you’re at it!”

The blade of the ax slammed through the door for the first time. It thrived Lucy. She poured the last of the oil on the fallen curtains and cackled over the repeated slicing of wood. She threw the empty can of oil through the glass of the window, right beside the door. The fragments shattered over the man’s jacket and head.  
“What are ya doing?” Micah put down the ax, startled by the counterattack. Lucy glared at him through the broken window.  
“Don’t you fucking…”  
Lucy disappeared from the window. Hearing sounds from the opposite side of the house, Micah left the ax behind. Having dawdled to the front yard, he saw her climbing through an open window. She had a cigarette in her teeth. In her left hand was a leather bag, her shotgun hung over the shoulder. Micah tried to run, but the snow had depth here too. Halfway, he stumbled and fell.  
Lucy was victorious. She took a deep inhale from the cigarette. Without a single thought, she threw the burning butt inside the house. Micah looked up, laying in the snow on his stomach. Lucy watched the curtains ignite, the flames licking along the soaked floorboards, and when it reached the walls, she swallowed. What had she just done?


	2. Chapter 2

Lucy peeked around. The road was in no condition. She would not beat Micah in a chase to the nearest town, there was nowhere to hide, the ax was not far enough from his reach. Her horse was in the stable, while his was tied to a tree. Besides mister Hairbell’s gloomy eyes in one of the leafless bushes, Micah and Lucy were alone. The only way out was a fight. Fingering the handle of her revolver, she checked her husband. Micah was laying on the ground, eyes wide and mouth narrow. Somehow, he lost all his threat. Lucy was bolted into place, her eyes drilled at him.

Micah began to chuckle. Shivers drifted along Lucy’s spine, as she watched him gather himself. Her revolver, no longer tempting her to a bloody dance, she curled up inside. Her husband stood two heads taller than her, carrying a hundred pounds on her. She stepped back, as he couldn’t stop laughing. She gathered the fragments of her courage.

“What the hell is so funny?”

“You. I’m laughing _at_ your goddamn stupidity, woman.”

“Would you stop!”

“No.”

“Don’t you laugh!”

“What? It ain’t that you ever liked the place!”

“Well, you didn’t fix it like you promised!”

“You know what girl?”

“What?”

“I got the mail. Turns out, dear brother misses us so much, they’ll be in town first thing in the morning!”

Lucy dropped her face in her palms. She had forgotten all about his brother, and his wife and his daughters, showing up for the holidays.

“Jesus…” she whispered, swallowing her tears.

“Yeah. What a mess girl, what a mess… You got any of that food with ya?”

“NO!”

“Hm. I guess you’re screwed.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart…”

“Sorry’s not gonna cut it. First that damn animal and now this!”

“His name is mister Hairbell!”

“That cat isn’t an extension of my family-line!”

“Well maybe I’m not either! Have fun accommodating your _real_ family!”

“If I may remind you, you’re lacking a roof over your pretty little head! If I was you, I’d be acting real nice right now.”

“Well, what are we gonna do?”

“We… we get moving. That old hag of yours good to travel?”

“She’s fed.”

“Good. Go get it, and gimme that bag.”

“No.”

“Just… Go get the horse.”

When Lucy lead her horse out of the stable, Micah had mounted his Foxtrot. He always had the breed. Micah would go on and on about how Foxtrots were the one and only. Lucy tended to use the trap, every time she wanted to lure him off the rails in a conversation. It worked every time, as it worked with every young man Lucy had come across. They would always blab on about horses. Lucy didn’t care about things beyond, the horse being easy to handle and durable. That’s why she had invested in a Saddler a couple of years back. And this was the horse she owned today.

“A’ight, where’s mister Hairbell?” Lucy asked, while looking around. Micah raised an eyebrow. She called the cat a couple of times, without a response.

“Leave the cat! It’ll survive…”

“Mister Hairbell! Kitty! I’m sorry you had to see mommy acting all surly…!” Lucy circled the house, ignoring her husband.

“For crying out loud…” He dismounted and took a lean against the fence. All he did was watch the house burn. Lucy returned with sunken shoulders. Her boots were covered in snow, her hair hung loose over the face.

“Leave the cat behind.”

“No… uhm…” she began to sob, turning away from him.

Micah sighed and disappeared into the woods after a trail of paw prints. Lucy wiped her tears, listening to Micah’s hissing and tongue flicking. She inspected the prints in the fresh snow and lit a new smoke.

“Meow!”

Lucy stopped her feet, checking the surroundings.

“There you are, stupid son of a bitch… Come to Mica…ARGH!”

Lucy waded to the voice, as fast as she could. The cat was making a hellfire, hissing and meowing like prey in danger. Micah swore at the animal, having its’ claws dig into his skin. The cat didn’t spare its’ violence.

“Mister Hairbell! Let him go! Bad kitty!” Lucy yelled. Micah had managed to drag the cat off, it now hung from the skin on its’ neck. Mister Hairbell struggled to break free. Lucy approached her scratched husband, who was seconds away from drawing his gun and blowing the thing far from existence. The cat calmed down, when it saw the madam of the house. She took it in her lap. On Micah’s face shined pure anger. He nudged Lucy on his march past her. The cat hissed to remind him, that the beef would be far from over.

They traveled east from the burning house. Flakes fell from the sky, casting a gray curtain all around. Micah rode in silence before Lucy and mister Hairbell. The cat was wrapped in a blanket inside one of her saddle bags. Cold lingered in her toes, regardless of how much she rolled them around in the boot. The hot chimney was a sweet memory, and Lucy couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“How far are we from town? Micah? Sweetie?” Micah didn’t reply. She sighed and kept riding. The horses would soon be tired. Lucy was hungry and tired too. Lucy heard her stomach roar, mind playing images of yesterday’s saltless oatmeal. She picked up the pace.

“Sweetie… I might’ve gone a little too far… I’m sorry,” Lucy cried. Micah ignored her. The road would be indistinguishable in a couple of hours, Lucy worried. Her horse was puffing below. She drove closer and reached an arm on his shoulder. He gave her a look. The gesture was enough to calm her down. She let go of her husband and put some space in between them. They pushed on in silence, until the sky was dark. Micah then asked her to light a lantern.

The afternoon had glided by. The trip to Berryville would’ve taken no longer than a couple of hours in decent weather. By the time Lucy and Micah arrived, both were frozen to the bone. A powerful gust brushed their faces as the town’s lights shined below. The two descended from an elevation, unable to see the road anymore. Snow reached the stirrups on Micah’s horse, as he traveled towards the lights. Lucy was shaking, the reins like air in her gloved hands.

“Girl, I don’t know about you, but I could really use a hot bath.” Micah said, as they reached the main street. Lucy whimpered as a response.

The double-doors of the stables were opened before them. Neither wasted time, riding their horses into the building. Lucy dismounted and jumped jack, while Micah dealt with the payment.

“You two had some real luck, making it to shelter in this blizzard. Are you here for the holidays?”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about the luck. My house burned down this morning,” Micah mumbled in cold.

“I’m sorry for your loss, sir. I can recommend the inn, it’s right down the road. Real nice place.”

“Thank you. Take good care of my mount.” Micah stepped outside. Lucy picked up the bag of money.

“Uhm, young man?” The stable boy stopped leading the Foxtrot. “I have a cat,” Lucy opened her saddlebag and let mister Hairbell out. “would it be a’ight if I…”

“Madam, I’m afraid no small animals are allowed,” he cut her short. Lucy let a quiet whine, while picking up the cat.

“I’m sorry mister Hairbell, but I have to let you go…” She sobbed against its’ fur. The cat purred for affection. Crying Lucy walked towards the sealed double-doors. The man in the stable, rested Micah’s saddle over the stall.

“Ma’am…”

Lucy slowly turned around, stroking the cat’s head. “You may leave him with us. We’ll take care of him.”

“You would… Uhm…” she mumbled. The man nodded. Lucy wiped her tears and let mister Hairbell down. She kept sobbing, as the feller kneed down to pet the cat. It purred at him, satisfied with the attention. “It’s… My house burned down… My husband’s brother’s… I’m so overwhelmed with all of this…” Lucy sobbed. The feller looked at her in empathy.

“It’s alright, ma’am. It will turn out for the better. Again, I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you!” Lucy cried and stepped outside.

Micah was leaning against the wall and smoking, when Lucy closed the door behind herself. She tossed the money bag over her shoulder and lit a cigarette.

“Let’s check out this inn,” she said in a clear voice. Micah whizzed. He let her lead the way along the deserted main street. The town had been shoveled that day, and the walk would’ve been rather pleasant, had they not been ushered by blood halting wind.


	3. Chapter 3

Dinner was interrupted by Lucy, who entered the inn. Corners of the space whistled, tablecloths waggled in the hostile blow. Micah shut the door. Folks were staring at the arrivals, paused in mid-conversation. The place was packed. Lucy’s heels clapped against the floor as she crossed. The couple could smell fear. She rang the bell on the front desk and listened to the clinging of Micah’s spurs, as he swayed side to side to warm himself. Numbness on her cheeks was switched to a burn, as the heat of the room shattered its’ spikes. Her blood was forced to circulate.

The master of the inn appeared from the back room. He was a gray old man, with worn clothes and lousy posture. He jolted a little at the sight of their guns, but brushed it off shortly, when he saw their snow-covered clothes and Micah’s frozen mustache.

“Good evening, how may I help you?”

“Room for two, please.”

“I’m afraid we’re full for the night, sir. Christmas brings a lot of traffic and this awful weather…”

“Get me a room. Right now.”

“Sir, I don’t want any trouble…”

“I apologize, my husband is very upset. You see, our house burned down today, and we have nowhere else to go.” The man behind the desk took a step back and rubbed his graying beard.

“We won’t be a burden, I swear…” Micah laid a hand on the desk and looked him in the eyes.

“Please sir, we’re desperate,” Lucy said, ready to budge a tear or two.

The master examined the pair, one by one. With a good man’s consciousness, he gave in.

“I… Turns out we do have one room left,” he said and picked up the only key hanging behind him on the wall.

“Thank you, sir, thank you so much,” Micah said with indifference in his voice and took the brass object from his hand. Two dollar-bills were set on the desk.

“God bless you, sir!” Lucy praised the master and disappeared to the staircase after her husband.

The room was small and dusty. Lucy couldn’t have been more satisfied, when she rushed to the fireplace to warm herself properly. Micah swayed to her and pulled her away. In a split second, they were face to face, his hand gripping her by the collar of her shirt.

“Look at me,” he growled. Lucy’s green eyes obeyed his demand. The smell of burned tobacco drifted to her nostrils, as his breath accelerated. “Don’t you _ever _apologize on my behalves.” She drilled her eyes into his. He was delightful, acting so predatory.

Lucy’s heart kept pounding, even as Micah let go and left the room to have his bath. She stripped off her coat and left it on the bed. She took her time, warming by the fire. Flames, playing around in a fireplace, had always intrigued her in a special way. She watched nature’s own entertainment, while stretching herself on the dusty carpet. Her stomach reminded her from its’ existence with a loud snarl. Lucy sighed. She made one more deep stretch and dragged herself up. She stacked her wallet and hid the moneybag under the bed. With a quick peek at the mirror, she left the room.

A few tables had been vacated during the time Lucy had spent in the room. She nodded at the master, who stood before the empty key hooks. She walked past the desk, all the way to the next room, where she saw a bar. A couple of men were talking to each other at the counter. They didn’t pay much attention to Lucy, who’s shoulders barely reached over the bar. She ordered a bowl of stew and some grog. She chose a table, in the furthest corner of the room and dove in. She munched half of the bowlful with the hunger of an orphan child. She didn’t like fish too much, but cold weather had its’ magic around her taste buds. She took a sip of liquor and was full.

A suited feller entered the room. Lucy evaluated him. The slender man removed his hat and took a bow. Lucy watched him, walk to the piano. When the music was blasting, more people gathered to the saloon-section. Lucy lit a cigarette and lowered her hat. The brim shadowed her face, making her comfortable. A poker game was set up in one of the tables, more men were leaning at the bar, chugging down whiskey and babbling away. Horses, of course, and guns. Always horses and guns.

Lucy sipped her whiskey and tapped ashes on the floor. She tightened the nod in her scarf and pulled it over her ears. It didn’t help much. She finished the smoke and prepared to leave. She abandoned the idea when she heard Micah’s footsteps. Lucy turned around. He took himself to the bar and ordered. She blew air through her mouth and leaned back in the chair. Micah sat down opposite to her and ate. She watched him, stuff the stew in his face like an animal. The hunger of her husband, mixed with the blasting piano music, tightened her strings.

“You’re a jolly old boy, aren’t you!” Lucy snapped. Micah smirked at her and drank the broth out of the bowl. He then set it on the table and dropped his spoon. The sound pushed her boundaries further, her breath accelerated. He was digging at his pockets. She clenched her jaws.

“Go fetch me a drink.” Micah slammed a dollar on the table. Lucy glared at him. Without receiving any emotion as a response, she snatched the money and got up.

Nudging a few fellers on her way, Lucy slammed the money on the counter.

“Bourbon! Make it two!” she shouted over the music. The clerk poured two glassfuls and slid them over the bar. “Keep the change,” she said and picked up the drinks. Swaying her way back to the table, she saw her husband smirking with a cigarette in his teeth. With the glasses safely on the table, she rested her palms on the board and leaned her weight on them. Micah looked up at her, aware of fellers, checking his wife’s rear and making sticky comments.

“Calm your ass and _sit down._”

One of the drinks disappeared down Lucy throat, but she refused to obey her husband. Leaning at the table again, cheerful laughter and joyous whistles in her ears, she brought herself eye-to-eye with Micah. Like a flipped switch, the booze started talking. Lucy couldn’t help her lips from twitching into a stupid smile.

“Wipe that off your face, girl.”

“I wanna mingle… Just a little.”

“Not one of those nights, girl.”

“Come on, sweetie! Just a little play…”

“I’ve had enough of your damn tricks for today, _leave it_!”

“Where did you leave the roast, Micah? You was supposed to hunt for me, remember?”

“Enough with the arrogant horseshit! Burning down _my _house, coaxing that animal to attack me…!”

“Baby, baby, baby!” Lucy stroked his shaven cheek, tracing the mean looking cut in his chin. Micah grabbed the hand and squeezed it in his fist. Her doe eyes were gazing him. Lucy’s wordless begging got him on his good side. He sighed and turned to his drink.

“Go fish,” he said and chugged down the liquor. Lucy smiled, then slapped him on the face. It wasn’t a hard one.

“You bastard!” Lucy huffed and left the table with tense shoulders and whimpering lips. She clamped her way through the room and took herself to the bar.

“Sir, is there another hotel in this town?” Lucy asked the clerk. He shook his head, just like she had hoped. Lucky for her, she lacked the most common characteristics of a damsel in distress. Her guns were intimidating enough to shake a good Samaritan from her tail. The feller behind the counter made it his goal to avoid her and kept working. She rubbed her forehead with distressed features. Soon, a different man approached her.

“Ma’am, you look like you could use a drink.” She looked up. He was a middle-aged gentleman in a fur coat. The rest of his garments were the expensive kind. Lucy snorted and checked around in embarrassment.

“Sir, I… That would be too kind.”

“Well, I insist.”

With a new glass of whiskey in her hand, Lucy followed her new companion across the saloon. He introduced her to his table. They were a mismatch of folk. To her convenience, all of them traveled alone. She was told, they had run into each other that night. She praised the fur man, thanking him for his attempts to cheer her up. Two of the men were playing fillet. They encouraged Lucy to place a bet. She put ten cents on the other one.

“So, lady. Tell us your story,” the fur man said, when Lucy was twenty cents poorer. She sighed.

“It’s a long one.”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Donna Fischer.”

“Where are you from, miss Fischer?”

“Ohio.”

“What brings you this far from home?”

Lucy checked Micah. He nodded from across the room. Lucy loosened a little.

“I could say, I’m a traveler by nature. You see, my father worked at the railroads. One day, I got on one of those things and am yet to return,” she said. Fabricating stories was good fun.

“That’s brave for a lady, very brave,” fur man said and made a cross over his chest.

“So, what is it that you do, mister…?” Lucy asked.

“Ellis. Horatio Ellis.”

“Mister Ellis.”

“I own a general store in New Hanover. I live in a small town called Valentine.”

“Really? How’s business?” Lucy kept her voice indifferent to give an impression of melancholia.

“Business is excellent! Or at least in the spheres of a small town, the good thing is, no competitors!” Lucy smiled at his excitement. “I came to visit my sister in these parts. Lives a couple of dozen miles south from here. Decent size ranch for a small family. You see, in Valentine, I’m all by myself.”

“Well, that makes two of us.” Lucy winked at him. His cheeks blushed a little and Lucy took it as credit. She sat with the party for a while, the fur man keeping his silence. Despite that, he was generous with the looks he shed at Lucy’s direction. She kept smiling, while avoiding them like a good girl should.

It was late, the table was growing empty. Lucy and fur man were the last ones to stay. With the last feller gone, the one who had won the game of fillet, there was a short moment when they gazed at each other. He finished his last drink.

“I do not want to sound rude, but would you be interested in coming upstairs with me, miss Fischer?”

“I have nothing against your discrete suggestion, mister and I do not want to sound rude either. Therefore, let me have a suggestion of my own, which I hope you’ll understand.”

“Please, go ahead.”

“I believe the baths are still in use at this hour.”

“Madam, I understand you perfectly.”

The fur man went through his pockets until he found what he was looking for. With feather soft movements, he took Lucy’s hand and shook it. She gazed him in the eyes, wiring him. When he walked away, Lucy opened her palm and checked the engraved number on the key. Micah had kept his eye on Lucy the entire time. She met him at the bar and sneaked over the key.

“I'll stall,” she whispered and left the saloon.


	4. Chapter 4

Lucy took a seat on one of the chairs in the lobby. She turned her head away when Micah passed the front desk. The master was nowhere to be seen. Lucy lit a cigarette and waited for the feller to leave the bathroom. A door opened upstairs. She caught her heart pounding as she counted seconds. She tapped off ashes and leaned further on the chair, avoiding suspicion. It had been less than five minutes when fur man returned.

“Mister Ellis!” Lucy jumped to her feet. The man was startled. “I couldn’t wait, I had to…” When she was grabbed by his arms, she realized her mistake. Pending direct view from the saloon, a hand grouped her ass. Her head started running catastrophic scenarios. “Mister Ellis, I…” she was cut short by the man’s lips, taking hers with little consideration. His wet, rough shave scratched her skin. Her fears came through, as her feet lost contact with the ground. She had no say in any of it, he was going to carry her up to the room.

The door to his room was unlocked, mister Ellis failed to notice. Lucy mumbled into the forceful kiss, eyes expanding in her head. The door slammed shut behind their embrace, and behind that door, was Micah. Blood lust in his eyes, he stood frozen.

Lucy struggled free from the kiss and grabbed mister Ellis by the fur in his coat.

“Oh, mister Ellis, please… Have me on this bed!” Lucy lured him further into the room, sat on the edge of the bed and pulled him towards herself.

“You are a rose among weeds, miss Fischer…” She glanced at her husband. Micah had unwrapped the bandanna around his neck, it now was stringent between his two fists. Lucy winked at mister Ellis and jumped backwards on the mattress. Her pulse up the roof, Lucy kept smiling at the clueless man. He chuckled at her playfulness, ready to seize her with his body.

Micah looped his bandanna around mister Ellis’ throat in a flash. Lucy panted in excitement, watching him struggling and squeaking at the loss of air. She looked at her husband’s teeth, as he was strangling the man with a taunting smirk on his face. Her finger gripped the linen on of the bed, lips watering in thrill and joy, as mister Ellis exhaled his last breath.

The body fell on the carpet in a soft movement. Micah wiped sweat off his forehead, catching his breath. He glared at the million-dollar smile on Lucy’s blushed face.

“You were supposed to stall him!” he whispered.

“There was no stalling his kind, slimy old bastard…”

“You’re on thin ice, woman…” Micah pointed his finger at a corner. Lucy, sensing no room for misbehavior, got off the bed. He tore all the bedding off and began making a rope.

“Can’t we just leave him?”

“If I have to remind ya, we have to sleep under this roof tonight.”

“Did you find any money?” she asked, going through fur man’s pockets. Micah whizzed at her and shook his head.

“Useful as gravel in my shoes. Good job, girl. Good job.”

“He said he owned a store.”

“And you thought he was rich…”

“I expected something. Something’s better than nothing.” Lucy inspected the drawers and wardrobes again, hoping to find a dollar or two.

“This is a whole lot of nothing… Com ‘ere and gimme a hand!”

“What if… He has a sister nearby. That’s where he was headed. Ranchers…”

“Shut up and help me!” They quit whispering.

Micah climbed on a chair and threw the makeshift rope over a rafter above his head. Lucy made a noose, while Micah was dragging the body along the carpet. She popped the corpse’s head through the loop, while Micah was lifting. With the corpse hanging from the rope, the couple inspected their achievement.

“I’ll clean up, go wait in the room,” Micah commanded and handed over the key. Lucy stashed it into her dress pocket and sneaked into the corridor. With feather light footsteps, she swung along. Her skin in goosebumps, she made a little spin on her way and smiled at her thoughts. Inside the room, she let out an amused gasp, running her hands along her neck. Biting her lip, she stepped in the heat of the ember in the fireplace and stripped herself naked.

The pile of clothes was topped with a revolver, shining in its’ pristine condition. Lucy arched her back on the carpet, resting her soles against the fireplace. She was humming. Her eyes closed. When the door opened, she didn’t react. Footsteps stopped for a brief, then approached her head. Lucy stopped humming. The smell of leather in her nose, she opened her eyes. Micah was right above her, one boot on either side of her head. He was looking directly down at her face.

“First decent thing you’ve done all day,” Micah said. Lucy’s lips formed the words, “I’m sorry”. Pressing kisses on his boots, she stroked his calves and ankles. He took his time, watching the curves of her body, enjoying the dominance. She turned on her stomach, worshiping him with her eyes. The leather against her lips was like silk. His boots always had a lingering scent of oil. She let her tongue slide over the silver tip of his right boot. Looking at him in tease, she noticed the bulge in his pants.

“Get up,” Micah said. Lucy barely had gotten on her knees, when a hand grabbed her by the hair. Micah pulled up gasping Lucy and walked her to the closest wall. She was set, palms to wallpaper, legs spread. Cheek pushed against the wall she bit her lip. Fingers ran down her back, sending shivers along her spine. They played their way lower, until a slap hit her ass. She whined through her teeth in surprise.

The fingers made it to their destination. Lucy moaned at her husband. Her sweet spot was hooked gently, exactly the way she preferred.

“Like my boots _so_ much… Nasty.”

“Uhm. I’m nasty…” Lucy whispered. The hand in her hair, tugged her head backwards, forcing her into an arch. They were nose to nose. Mesmerized by Micah’s ice-cold eyes, she took in the smell of tobacco in his breath. His lips brushed hers, fingers pulled out. Having lost all control, she took his lips. They were moist and plumped and wonderful. She cherished the love she had for him. Lucy came to terms with the fact, for the night, he would own her.

Micah loosened the grip around Lucy’s hair and deepened the kiss. His warm body was squirming a little, buckle was clinging. Gun belt fell to the floor. With the pants out of the way, Micah pushed his wife’s chest against the wall. The unpleasant memory of mister Ellis shied away from her mind.


	5. Chapter 5

Lucy stood up on her tippy-toes, craving for the only man she’d ever been with. Micah slid himself along her slit, whispering pleasured noises in her ear. Knowing well it made her insane, he took his time to tease her. Lucy’s body jolted with every touch, every sound. Before she knew it, she heard herself begging. Micah chuckled at her desperation.

In one slick move, Micah stuffed himself into Lucy. Slow and careful, he rolled his hips against her, listening to her reactions. She moaned at the familiar shape, her thighs flexing and shaking. With every slow thrust, her flesh adjusted to his girth. The loving rhythm didn’t last long. Once deep inside her, Micah couldn’t stop himself from pounding her harder. She cried in his hands, her nails scratching the wallpaper.

For Lucy’s annoyance, Micah suddenly stopped. Shaken out of her heaven, Lucy opened her eyes. He placed his demand by pulling her from the hips. Lucy rocked back and forward, letting his hands drop to the sides. Micah watched his cock, disappear and reappear. Lucy loved the smug look on his face. She wiggled her ass, making him smile.

“Look at you…” he said.

“We ain’t so sullen no more, uh?”

To further establish his dominance, Micah wrapped his hand around Lucy’s hair again. Her cheek kissing the wall once more, she whined at her husband, having his way with her. Hips were slapping in a fast pace, soring her up, but she didn’t give a damn. Her head forced into a backwards tilt again, she met his sight. Her mouth swallowed his whimpering breath, mustache tickling her chin as he bit her lip. Excited with the connection, he let go of her hair, seized her breast and dragged her against his chest. With shaking legs, she dropped on her heels, taking all there was of him. He let a loud growl and kept fucking her obsessively, harder than hard, until she reached her first climax.

Micah pulled out, panting in exhaustion. Lucy stumbled on the carpet, her heart racing, extremities limp and loose. She observed him through the crack of her eyelids, holding himself, steering his thoughts away from what they just did. Both glanced at the bed. Those things in hotels were as if they’d been constructed for the sole purpose of waking every neighbor. Micah didn’t need to try out the springs, instead he pulled a chair and took a seat.

Lucy crawled to her husband. He tossed his hat on the bed, making himself comfortable. Lucy ran her fingers along Micah’s thighs.

“You like that?” She asked, looking intensely at him.

“You know what I like.” He touched her chin, luring her towards himself. Her eyes went down to the part of his body she perhaps, favored the most. The view made her mouth crack open.

“Mm… Good girl…”

The cock hardened in Lucy’s mouth, as she kept her eyes on her husband. He tilted his head back, pushing her head down on his length. She wrapped her hand around it, sticking out her tongue with watering eyes. Micah grinned at her, spitting him out and licking him up and down. He just had to rub her in the face with it, with her mouth attending to the task set right below. With that she had had her fair share. He seemed disappointed but didn’t object to her pushing him back on the chair.

The sound of clinging metal echoed in the misty room. Lucy hopped up and down in Micah’s lap, nails tearing his shirt over the shoulders. He shook off the piece of clothing and took her on his arms. She rocked her hips back and forward, forehead against Micah’s, those blue eyes fucking her back just as hard. He was regaining his dark and musky scent. Sweat lubricated the area where their skin was in contact, assisting the shared movement.

Lucy felt the pleasure building. The whimper in her husband’s breath told her it wasn’t a secret. She kept riding Micah without mercy.

“I’m gonna come…” she moaned.

“Allow me.” Before she could finish, she was lifted from the chair with him. She wrapped her legs around him, gasping at the depth of the thrusts. Repeating his name, the tension inside her was set free in violent spasms. She was dropped on the bed, as he continued pounding her with core-shaking force. Some tens of seconds after, she heard him groaning.

Micah pulled out and spilled his seed on his wife’s thighs. He buried his face in the linen, having collapsed over gasping Lucy. His weight was uncomfortable, but she didn’t mind. Micah was catching his breath, pants still in his ankles.

“Fuck…” he gasped at her and rolled over. Lucy, able to finally relax, took his hand. “You rile me up…”

“Well, I needed that.” She rested her head on his chest. He sniffed her hair and planted a little kiss in the messy bush.

Lucy got out of the bed and found her pack of regulars from the pile of clothes she had left on the floor. She lit one.

“Bring me my guns, would ya,” Micah asked. She picked up the gun belt from the floor and laid them on the nightstand. After blowing out the lamp, she crawled under the blankets. Micah snatched the smoke from her and took a deep inhale. Lucy took a couple more puffs and rested her head on the pillow.

Micah put out the cigarette and sneaked closer to Lucy. He stroked her cheek. She was snatched to be his little spoon.

“You’re not gonna sleep, are you?”

“You know me, I’ll be ‘ere and protect ya.”

“Hm… Good night sweetheart.”

“Good night.” After a few minutes of enjoying his warmth, Lucy eased. Exhausted as she was, there was hope. Everything, could be dealt with in the morning. Micah would figure it out as he always did. That night, she was out like a light.


	6. Chapter 6

The black and vivid nightmare was shaken off by a ray of light, penetrating Lucy’s eyelids. She flashed awake, back covered in cold sweat. For a second, she couldn’t remember where she was. The previous day drifted through her mind, as she was sitting up in the bed. With a yawn, she dragged herself up. Stepping over the pile of clothing, she stood before the small window and let the light in. The sun cast it’s yellow and red colors on settled snow. The hellish blizzard of yesterday was a memory.

Lucy dressed herself in the room. The fabric of her dress was damp. She damned herself for not leaving it on a hook to dry. She lit a regular and sat back down on the sheets. On the nightstand was a note. Rolling over her stomach, she picked it up. Lucy sighed. Responsibility was just as real as it had been the day before, and every day before that. With another roll, she was on her feet. The note was torn up and tossed on the ashes in the fireplace. The moneybag had been taken, Lucy noticed, wiping dust from her dress. She sneezed and picked up her hat.

The innkeeper showed up at the front desk with a spatula in his hand. Lucy stopped blasting the bell and handed back the room key. Both were brief with words. The smell of porridge set Lucy’s stomach howling. On the verge of ordering a bowlful, she wished the master a merry Christmas and walked out into the cheek-tingling frost. Breath steamed through her nose. There were few folks out and about, and she had nothing against that. A worker was driving his plow on the main street. The noise of grating ruble was aching in her ears, and Lucy didn’t waste time taking herself to the stables.

Micah was grooming his horse in one of the stalls. Lucy saluted him. To her convenience, he had picked up the money and stowed the bag on his horse. A homely purr sounded from her feet. Mister Hairbell brushed its’ ears against her ankles. She squatted and gave some deserved affection. A plate of milk had been left in the corner. The cat meowed and stood on its’ back paws.

“Are you hugging me, Mister Hairbell? Good boy…” It was not common for the cat to be close to her when she smelled like Micah. Maybe it knew they were in decent terms that day, Lucy wondered.

Micah stashed the brush in his saddlebag and fed his horse some treats. Lucy rubbed Mister Hairbell’s cheeks and let it drink from the bowl. She walked to the stalls and lead out her mount. Micah followed her and took a lean at the closest gate. As she was preparing the animal, she could feel his eyes burning holes in her clothes. Rewarding him with a glance, she set the saddle on the horse’s back. Tugging the belt around the stomach of the animal, she made a suggestive bow.

Lucy was grabbed from the shoulder and pulled into an embrace.

“Better give Micah some loving…” Micah whispered in her ear.

“Hmm… My wife’s a nutty Lil’ thing,” she replied. They shared smirk and merged their lips.

“Have you heard of Amos?” Lucy asked.

“I left him a letter. We better find someplace to be.” Micah let go of her. He dawdled around the room, kicking the hay with his boots. Lucy knew he wanted to tell her something.

“When’s do you think they’ll be here?”

“Soon. I was thinking about that conquest of yours, mister Ellis.”

“That’s a little misleading but go on.”

“I rode around when you was sleeping. Found this nice ranch not too far from here. If he was well off, I’m quite sure this place belongs to beloved sister.”

“So, what did you see?”

“Some chickens and hogs, big house, no staff.”

“That sounds perfect. Any small kids?”

“I doubt it.”

“Sounds worthy of a visit.”

“… Let’s.”

This time around, Mister Hairbell wasn’t thrilled to travel in a bag. It took Lucy a series of attempts to wrap it inside the fur. Micah demonstrated some serious patience, watching her chase the cat around the stable. When the deed was done, Lucy had to open her buttons to chill herself. When they were all set, the town had become a hustle. Both pulled their hats low and rode away with little to say.

The road had been stumped by wagons and horses and people. The traffic, turned saluting folk into a chore. This time of year, people were painfully talkative. They sped up every time they saw a lonesome rider. Sunshine blinded Lucy to the point she had to shade her face with a palm, making it harder to drive the horse. On her left side, she saw fishermen on the ice of a frozen lake. She had ridden on the shore a couple of times before. Now in frost, the whole area was sparkling and white and vibrant. Neither could stop staring at the view.

When they were close, Micah lead Lucy on a detour. They approached the ranch from the side of the lake. Thick coniferous forests surrounded the open area, defending them from being spotted. Halfway through the ice, silent crackling shook Lucy awake from their wilderness daydreams.

“Do you hear that?” she asked. Micah reversed a little and listened. “There’s a defile nearby.”

“You sure? I wouldn't...” The snapping of ice cut him short. Their horses resisted their attempts to drive further.

Having made it back to the shore, both Lucy and Micah had grown irritated with each other for no specific reason. They put some distance in between to keep the peace. Riding on the shore proved out not a bad choice. The house stood tall in an opening, large windows were facing a boat house and jetty.

After hitching their horses in the woods, they sneaked closer to the building. No children were playing outside, but Micah spotted a small sled by the front porch. He didn’t mention it to Lucy. They kept low when walking to a granary. Micah pulled out his binoculars and inspected the windows. Shotgun on her shoulder, his wife rimmed around the building. Inside, she saw nothing besides sacks of grain and corn. Micah signaled her back.

A man stepped out of the piggery, located on the other side of the yard.

“Larry! Son!” Micah and Lucy saw the son come out. He was wearing a bright colored sweater. “Is the oven hot? Could you ask your momma?” The son disappeared into the house but returned shortly after.

“…”

“What’s that?”

“She says yes!”

“Well come over here and help me carry the ham inside!” The son was quick with his feet. Both men entered the piggery.

Micah hunkered into the open, before he noticed that Lucy hadn’t followed him. He gestured her over. Once hiding behind the fence, Lucy made herself comfortable.

“What are we waiting for?” Micah asked. She gave him a smug look.

“You really want to add to the load you have to carry with them bodies? Let’s wait for them to get back into the house,” she said.

“Hm. Guess we could wait a bit longer for the seasoning while we're at it.” Lucy poked her finger at Micah’s chest. He rested on his knees and kept watch through the cracks in the fence.

“Look at those idiots… There’s a sled right there for Christ sake.” Micah mumbled at the sight of the father and son, adjusting and readjusting the giant piece of pork in their hands. They dropped the thing on the snow. With them having a conference about the task in hand, Lucy opened a can of peaches. It took the two men a good while to get the butchered animal to the steps of the house. The madam kept open door and shook her head. Lucy empathized her with all her heart. The father and son, dragged the meat inside, shouting directions at one another as they went.

“Let’s just wait.” Lucy tossed the empty can into the woods.

“Go check the piggery.” Micah helped her free from her shotgun.

Lucy climbed over the fence and entered the building from a side door. The smell made her eyes water. Before she realized, she was knocked on her back in mud. Gathering in a flash of adrenaline, she found herself face to face with a monstrous hog. Sticky trunk sniffed at her face. Her heart was racing. It tried to snap. She crawled back, gasping in panic. Blinking pain pulsed along her arm. Lucy screamed bloody murder. Another pig behind her had gotten her wrist in its’ mouth. She couldn’t break free from the hungry jaws. The fear sharpening her vision, Lucy saw the animals closing in in a pact. All were large, strong and heavy, and would eat just about anything. Kicking to reverse, she rolled back and forward. The hog didn’t move an inch.

Lucy pushed her strength. Her feet cooperated for the sake of her life. She swayed the hand back and forward, kicking and stumping her feet to keep the rest of the mob away. She struggled out of her coat and rushed to the wall of the pen. The pigs soon lost their interest in her. She cringed as they joyfully chewed her coat into little pieces. Having made it to safety, Lucy wanted to yell. Remembering she had left her cigarettes and wallet in one of the pockets didn’t help much. The door of the piggery opened.

“What in the name of Lord are you doing here?” the man of the house asked her with raised eyebrows.

Before Lucy could make up a lie, a gun went off. She covered her ears. The man’s headless corpse stood by itself for a few seconds. By the time it collapsed, blood streams were dripping from the walls like beet juice. Lucy jumped over the body and stepped outside. Micah tossed her the smoking shotgun. With it done, they saw the madam of the house, loading a rifle on the front porch. The two separated, Lucy stepped back inside the piggery, Micah dashed behind a tree.

The lady didn’t spare bullets. Lucy ducked under a window, getting a sprinkle of broken glass on her hair. Micah opened fire on the woman, while his wife was shaking off the fragments of broken window. Her shotgun was no good from the distance. Pulling her revolver, Lucy saw Micah advancing through the yard. Lucy unleashed all six towards the house. In the carnival of bullets and shattering wood, the woman of the house kicked over an outdoor table and took cover.

Lucy clenched her jaw and rushed out of the building. She held her breath, taking the same spot where Micah had hidden moments earlier. A cartridge whistled past the ear, as Lucy was reloading. Micah emptied his revolvers one by one. The lady kept low, expecting them to appear in her sights. In between the gunfire, Lucy could’ve sworn she heard a horse neighing. With a dozen more missed shots, the woman on the porch started screaming profanities at the invaders. Lucy left the tree.

In the woman’s eyes was death. Lucy kept her at gunpoint the whole time. She was slow, careful. Perhaps she had one left for each of them, or herself. Micah joined Lucy’s parade with risen hands. In a dash, the woman retreated into the house.

“Take the back,” Micah said and reeled his guns around his fingers. Lucy ran to the lake, listening to her husband kicking in the front door.

With every passing second, Lucy’s heart was weighing down her chest. She guarded the back door with her faithful shotgun. She heard things fall over, the woman’s voice breaking when her throat grew sore from screaming at Micah. Preferably, the first one out would be the mother. Lucy waited.

Feet were stamping towards the door. Lucy flexed her arms, staring along the pipe of the large weapon. When the woman ran through, she pulled the trigger. The stock kicked her hard in the chest, wrist with bite marks complained. Blood painted the doorway. Lucy and Micah dropped their heads to see the woman’s life escaping through the shell made holes in her torso. Some seconds after she was pale and cold. Micah watched his wife sticking her hand in the snow.

“Did you finish the kid?” Lucy asked. The pain in her wrist was numbed by the cold, yet she was gasping.

“I was gonna ask you the same. Are ya alright?” Lucy pulled the hand away and nodded. As one, they spotted fresh horse tracks leading to the ice. Micah scouted into the open but didn’t see anything. It was too sunny and too even. They followed the prints in the snow. The ice was complaining under their weight.

“Larry! Show yourself!” The screams echoed back.

“We just wanna talk! Come on!” No one replied. The prints lead them to a spot where the ice was shallow. Micah spotted something bright in the distance. Lucy was told to hang back as he wandered to the hole. Lucy turned around, not to see the drowned horse and boy, floating under the ice.

Having returned to the house, both got to work. Micah used the sled to drag the corpses to the lake. Lucy speculated they were better as a family. She picked up a bucket of water and baking soda and scrubbed the blood off the walls in both buildings. Brushing away with the injured hand, she noticed her head bleeding. She entered the house and took herself to a mirror. Spreading her hair, she picked up a piece of glass from her scalp. Tingling pain irked her head throughout the morning. The wrist turned black where there were tooth marks. She covered them with a shirt she found in one of the wardrobes.

"Ain't we supposed to have some gifts for the girls?"

"I... I'll take care of that. What should I get?"

"Not knives." Lucy re-wrapped a package, addressed to past Larry. "Hair ribbons or buttons for the girdle, I don't know." Micah rolled his eyes and loaded his wallet. "You know I'm not any wiser than you at this!" she snapped.

"Oh! I ain't gifting no buttons, they're kids!"

"Kids wear girdles too! Small things vanish all the time and then you get the belt for loosing your goddamn girdle buttons! And it might not be your fault since all the girls loose them and that's why they steal another's buttons to save their ass!"

"And that's how she became an outlaw. Buttons it is."

"THANK YOU!" Lucy watched Micah ride off on his horse. Against his will, she let Mister Hairbell into their temporary home. It rubbed its’ cheeks in the corners of furniture and soon found comfort by the stove of the kitchen. Lucy tossed the brown water outside and began collecting suspicious items. She rounded up all the family photographs and wished she had some of her own to replace them. There was a wedding picture, a photo of the mister riding a horse, the madam feeding chickens and even a picture of the boy, when he was a baby. Lucy threw the pictures into the firebox.

Lucy’s chores were interrupted by noises from the outside.

“Jack! Are you home!” When no one came to the front, the man approached the back of the house. Lucy hid behind the door. Where she was from, folk didn’t take kindly to types who walked into houses uninvited. The man in black became a corpse as soon as he walked through the door. Lucy blew the smoke off the barrel of her revolver and damned the new mess she had made. She sunk on her heels against the wall and sighed deep. The man died with a bible in his hand. She took it and read a couple of lines before setting it on the floor. To Lucy’s advantage, he had a pack of premiums in the pocket of his robe. Mister Hairbell sniffed the traveling minister and looked at Lucy. She took the cat in her lap and lit a smoke after it had been cuddled. She rubbed the cut in her head and rested.


	7. Chapter 7

Joyous murmur carried into the kitchen. Lucy snapped awake. The cigarette in her hand had gone out. Mister Hairbell was licking blood off the body of the traveling minister. Embarrassed by her little nap with a corpse by her side, Lucy stormed to the next room. Looking for something convenient, she heard Micah’s footsteps from the front of the house. Her chest was rising and falling in a rapid pace, as she pushed a wooden chest off the only item she could use, a large carpet. A glass vase, containing a bucket of willow sticks and dried red rowan berries, was knocked off the chest. The thing shattered into millions of little pieces. Lucy kicked the fragments away from sight and rolled up the carpet.

Lucy tossed the carpet into the kitchen and slammed the door shut. Sweat on her forehead she tried to conceal her state. Micah entered the house with a demanding look on his face. Lucy gave him thumbs up and put on the best smile she could manage. Wiping blood off her shoe, she checked that the door behind her wasn’t cracked. Her shirt was tidy, hair in place.

“Here we go”, Lucy whispered under her breath. “Morning! Welcome to our house!” she said and approached the visitors. Micah didn’t spare his smug while smirking at his brother. Both were tall, broad shouldered and bearded, all over pleasing for her eye. Lucy’s smile didn’t melt Amos the slightest. He gave her a cold handshake, while peering around, out of place in the large house.

“Good to see ya, Lucy.”

“Here's one who's kept her finesse! Melinda, remember my wife Lucy?” Micah kept the door open for his sister-in-law and the two girls. All were as if walking on thin ice. Lucy stepped forward, wrapping her arms around the dark haired woman in a gray dress. She took her coat and hung it in the hallway.

The daughters, Katie and Mary-Alice buried their little fingers into the hems of their mother, checking at every corner. Lucy didn’t mind the presence of children, but these two were sharp and wide-eyed. Grown conscious, she picked up the broken vase and swept the smaller fragments of glass up in a dustpan. The kids stalked her every move. Lucy didn’t have a heart to snap at these two angels. The younger resembled her mother. Mary-Alice had bunny-nose, paired with abridged lips. The older one was more like the Bells, heart-shaped face, blonde hair. Looking at her, Lucy sensed a warm tingle. The last time she had seen the family, Katie had just learned to walk.

Amos was asking loads of questions about the house. For the most part, Micah’s lies were fluent. Lucy took Melinda up to the bedrooms. Carrying her bags up the stairs, she bit the bullet. The two didn’t speak. She showed Melinda to the master bedroom, stripped off anything personal to the homeowners. She rested the bags on the freshly made bed.

Melinda looked around in the space. Katie and Mary-Alice were standing, backs against a wall.

“Are you scared of your uncle?” Lucy took a knee and smiled at the children. All they did was look at their mother, tense as a string on an instrument. “You see, he might seem a little rough, but he is a good man.” She glanced at Melinda, who had turned her back on them. The kids avoided Lucy, leaning tighter against the wall.

“Are you scared of your aunt Lucy!” she cackled. The girls now looked at her. She softened and pat the younger one on the head. “There’s no need for that… Your mom and I go way back. But you know what I might have in store for you?” She reached in her pocket. The two were inspecting her mercilessly. Lucy opened her palm and handed each of the girls a bonbon. Their mother nodded. The girls whispered their aunt a thank you and left the room.

Melinda had built up some courage. She stood straight, one hand on the window frame, the other one on her waist. Lucy got up and turned facing her.

“Lucy.”

“Melinda.”

The sister-in-law’s gray eyes didn’t blink. There were a thousand things Lucy wished to say. That moment, none came out. For a second she thought that Melinda might open her mouth, Lord knew she was thinking of them too. After a minute or so, of standing frozen in place like two statues, Lucy hoped for her to keep her lips sealed. Melinda didn’t budge, knowing that her in-law might go off at her like a mean-tongued snake if she did. Their silent standoff was interrupted by the men climbing up the stairs. “We can get through this,” Lucy said and eased her shoulders.

“Be decent around my daughters, that’s all I ask.”

“I promise. Hey, brother! Is this good enough for you!”

Amos checked the room and rubbed his brown hair. Micah leaned against the door frame, smirking at Melinda.

“I still can’t wrap my head around this place. You two…”

“Oh, you just can’t let me have anything nice. That, my brother, is _jealousy_. Your girl’s eyes tell me, it’s real.”

“_Your wife’s. _And you know we ain’t the jealous type.”

“I’m in a great mood today, that for, I’m not gonna be listing all the evidence I have against you on that. Yet, I was green if I was you,” Micah chuckled. Amos and Melinda rolled their eyes. Lucy was smirking over her shoulder.

“What about them hogs, you’ve raised how many again?” Amos launched, tired of being a laughing stock. Micah crouched forward as his brother raised his eyebrows.

“Well, that would be plenty,” Micah whispered. Lucy’s toes were rolling in her boots, as she bit her lip. Before Amos could interrogate further, she stepped in.

“Guess what else we have! Horses! Walkers! They just might be one of the best breeds we’ve kept so far…” Lucy tapped her finger on her palm, watching Amos and Micah shake their heads.

“That’s just _her_ opinion,” Micah mumbled.

“Oh, I know it ain’t yours! Still, I can’t believe what is it that you have against a good mix-…”

“They are not horses! A horse is a thing that you ride, and half-breeds…”

“Why wouldn’t you fellers go see what I’m talking about! We’ve got three in the stables, waiting for oats. But before you do that, I’m gonna borrow my husband in the kitchen. Briefly.”

Micah glared at his wife, once standing in the kitchen. He picked up the butcher’s knife from the pork leg. Lucy watched him throw the knife in the air. He caught the stub and slammed the blade, tip first in the table. Micah hovered around in the room, rubbing his beard.

“I was thinking we roll him in this carpet,” she whispered.

“I ain’t dragging him anywhere with them in the house.”

“Am I supposed to?”

“Let’s… Let’s store him in the cellar and dispose tonight.”

“Tonight? Why not just leave him there until they leave?”

“Can I trust you to keep my sister-in-law out of the kitchen? No. Do I want to have my family killed by your famous culinary skills?”

“Micah…”

“We’ll deal with it. My brother… Odds are that he’s got God in his head and this is the last nail in the coffin.”

“A’ight… I’ll lock the door.”

Lucy unfolded the carpet while her husband picked up the minister. He dragged the body over the rug, conspicuously moping at Lucy. She sighed while opening the hatch to the cellar. The stairs were steep and moist, on the wall above were shelves, stacked with homemade jams and pickled fruits. Lucy made light and descended into the darkness. It smelled like rooted vegetables and salt. She walked around with the lantern in her hand, inspecting the corners and gaps. Unease lurked under her skin. Preserving meat hung from the ceiling in large chunks. A few were fresh. Lucy presumed they were from the animal she saw earlier that day.

Lucy was startled by Micah's shadow. The man was standing on the steps, looking annoyed as any.

“You alright?” he asked. She swallowed and stepped towards him with a piece of burning-hot coal in her throat. Air refused to enter her lungs. Surroundings became drowsy. Cold rain ran through her scalp, the cut pounded in her head. “Lucy…”

Sunlight flashed on Lucy’s face, mouth gaping for a breath. Micah shook her from the shoulders. On his arms in the kitchen, head had no images of her making it up the stairs. Micah quit shaking her and swayed a finger before her eyes. Lucy slapped the finger away and wiped her head. The cut wasn’t bleeding. Her husband pulled her close to his chest and inspected her pupils. His heart was pumping under his shirt.

“I need some air.”

Lucy sat outside on the steps. She sensed Micah’s presence. He was walking around in the kitchen, adding wood into the firebox, then sharpening the butcher’s knife, left behind on the table. Lucy came back inside. He put the knife down, eyes leering beneath the brim of his hat. She swayed around a little before grabbing the carpet roll. He stepped forward and took the heavier end.

“Slow, I don’t want you to fall.” Micah descended one step at the time. Lucy kept the roll in her armpit. Trying to keep her back straight, she had to blow under the weight of the minister’s feet. Micah arrived at the bottom and let the corpse down. Lucy dropped her end on the dust and wiped off sweat. After a brief break, Micah picked up the roll and tossed it over the shoulder. Lucy picked up the lantern and lead the way to the furthest corner of the cellar.

Micah dropped the body on the floor.

“Find anything to coat him?” he asked and turned to his wife. Lucy dragged a sack of flour to the corpse. She then knocked over an empty malt barrel and rolled it to Micah. He adjusted the things into place. Lucy climbed up the steps and looked down. She entered the kitchen and walked outside. There were planks of wood resting against the house. She carried one of them into the basement and set it over the rug. Micah took his turn on the steps and nodded at Lucy. She picked up the lantern and followed him.

Lucy opened the door to the main room and came face to face with Amos.

“What were you two doing?” Lucy took a step back.

“The pork. Lucy’s gonna get started on dinner.” Micah closed the hatch. His wife smiled at her in-law and turned to the meat. She slid her fingers along the stub of the knife. The animal had been cut to pieces. This one must've been the largest. It hadn’t been seasoned. All she saw was a bowl of something yellow. Amos seemed chagrined.

“Oh, Melinda could give ya a hand with that.”

“Thank you.” Lucy hid her relief.

“Let’s get out of the way, shall we.”

Micah lead Amos outside.

“I still can’t believe you married Nutcase Lucy.”

“Oh, she can hear you. Therefore, I’m gonna keep to myself about your wife.” Lucy listened to their babble divert to useless things. Melinda entered the kitchen.

“Katie and Mary-Alice went out to play. Is that alright with you?”

“Did you tell them to stay away from the hogs? Those are mean bastards.” Lucy pulled up the sleeve of her shirt, revealing the bite marks. Melinda's cringe revealed her teeth. Lucy stayed indifferent.

“Of course. I gave them tasks for scavenge hunting.” Melinda replied, checking the meat on the table.

“What’s that?” Lucy asked.

“Well, I told them to find me ten long sticks, make ten snow angels and write their names in the snow.”

“Melinda, you’re such matriarch.”

“Just something I do to get some peace and quiet. What are we cooking?”

“I was thinking ham… With mustard.” Lucy licked the finger she had dipped in the sauce.

“What about tonight?” Melinda rolled her sleeves.

“Tonight?” Lucy copied her in-law and ran water through her hands.

“Uh… I have this great recipe. You do have potatoes, don’t you?”

“Yes, I’ve got a sack in the cellar,” Lucy replied and rubbed the soap between her palms.

“Great. You could cut up some fat, I’ll go…”

“No, I’m gonna get those, you cut the fat,” Lucy said and dried her hands with a cotton rag.

“Good, but first we have to get this ham coated.” Melinda washed her hands and picked up the bowl of mustard. She then dripped the contents on the ham. Lucy stood back, embarrassed. When the sauce bowl was empty, Melinda used her hands to rub the meat. “Now, could you please pick up those bread-crumbs?” Lucy picked up the wooden box, which she thought had been a bin of leftovers to feed to the animals. “Sprinkle them on top, please.” Lucy poured the contents on the meat, perhaps a little too aggressively. Melinda washed her hands, leaving her in-law’s mindset unrecognized.

Both women pitched in, when pushing the ham into the oven. Melinda shut the hatch.

“Melinda… I can’t remember how…” Lucy lit a cigarette and sat on the edge of the table. Melinda reached for her own and loaned the flame.

“An hour for the first pound, half for each of the remaining. I’d say this one’s about sixteen.” Melinda said and took a deep inhale. She glanced at her in-law's legs, hanging from the edge of the table. Lucy immediately got down and scratched the dried pig’s blood off her dress.

“Hours or pounds?” she whizzed.

“Pounds. Nine hours. It’s important not to add wood to the oven. However, we can use the stove.” Melinda rubbed her neck and took some distance from Lucy.

“A’ight. I’ll get the potatoes.”

Contempt to leave the room, Lucy searched the kitchen cabinets until finding a large bowl. She entered the darkness of the cellar. The potatoes were located at the bottom of the staircase, on the left. The light from the hatch was enough. She listened to Melinda, opening the firebox of the stove and adding some wood. Lucy took a moment to finish her cigarette, before digging into the sack. After filling the bowl with large potatoes, she grew anxious with the environment and hurried upstairs.

Melinda had discovered a kettle and was filling it with water. Lucy set the ingredients on the table and went outside with a bucket. She made it to the jetty and sighed out loud. Hole, unmade, of course. An ice pick was standing in the snow a few yards away. Lucy waded through the blanket and tugged it. Frozen. She leaned all her weight on the handle, swaying it back and forward. When it came loose, she fell on her stomach with a grunt. The pole had scratched her ribs, she noticed, checking under her dress.

Diving in to pick up the son of a bitch, Lucy spotted something red in the distance. Standing with the heavy tool in her hand, she saw a shoveled path. It was a water pump. Lucy stabbed the ice pick back into place and grabbed the zinc bucket. Wading to the path, she bit her lip at the sound of children on the front yard. The laughter of her husband tormented her even worse. She focused her eyes on the pump ahead and shut her feelings in the basement of her mind, knowing it would only be a matter of time when they stated knocking, and eventually kicking the imaginary door off its’ hinges.

“God, yes. Praise Jesus!” Lucy whimpered when the pump had run its’ resistance in her hands. By this time, her cheeks were red, fingers wrinkled with cold. Water came splashing through the nozzle as she gave a few more pumps. Picking up the heavy bucket, she saw Melinda and the daughters on the back steps. Both had their backs covered in white. Snow angels, Lucy remembered. Katie grabbed her mother by the arm and dragged her out of the house. The kids ran around the corner, Melinda on their tail.

Lucy began to hum, if only to block the laughter and compliments from her ears. The bucket swung from the handle, spilling a little on each move. The girls gamboled back to the kitchen steps, followed by Melinda who was listing more suggestions for fun and games. Lucy slowed her pace. Melinda pat her youngest on the head and sent both their way.

“Don’t go to the piggery!” Melinda shouted after them. She turned to Lucy, who nodded and carried the bucket to the steps. Melinda put her palms on the handle, but Lucy didn’t give away her only chore. She warmed herself in front of the firebox, making room for Melinda.

“You’re gonna catch a cold, if you keep that up," the mother said. Melinda was shaking more than her in-law, who snorted in irony.

Without more said, Lucy washed the potatoes. Her sister-in-law observed the process, then patiently started peeling. Lucy couldn’t believe the amount of sacrifice in her eyes. “Too proud to stop me from wasting my time, what a moron”, Lucy thought. To make-up for her mistake, she picked up a knife too. Humored by Melinda’s expression, she kept doing the job the best she could. The layer of yellow became thinner with each tuber she went through.

Melinda sped up, until her in-law burst into laughter.

“Lucy, I don’t hate you,” Melinda said.

“Help in the kitchen is not gonna make us friends,” Lucy cackled.

“I know. But I’m here now, with my husband. What more do you want from us?” The mother asked.

“I don’t give a damn about what those two buffoons we call husbands want.” Lucy stopped laughing. She tossed the last potato on the pile and stabbed the knife to the cutting board.

“I care…” Melinda turned to Lucy and laid an unwelcome hand on her shoulder.

“Well, I’m sorry for you and in fact, I’m sorta sorry for me.” She turned her back on Melinda and leaned at the stove.

“Lucy…”

“You know what you did, what ya’ll did. I will never forget. End of discussion.”


	8. Chapter 8

Melinda’s greasy potato stew was served in the larger room. Micah and his brother stuffed themselves with, what seemed like mountains of food. Meanwhile Lucy and the girls nibbled their dishes with picky expressions. Melinda glanced at the woman at the other side of the table time and again. Ignored by Lucy, she kept munching. Eating fast was the third most important survival skill, old man Bell had once said. Amos and Micah hadn’t freed themselves from the habit. Everyone was silent. The rapid clinging of forks broke when Amos reached for the pot for a refill.  
Lucy shoveled a pile of food on her in-law’s plate. He thanked her and returned to eating. When Micah’s turn came, she was less generous. Her husband snarled. Lucy gave him one more scoop and lit a smoke with her plate still half full. Melinda finished and turned to Lucy, who blew smoke through her nose like a dragon.  
“Melinda, I am grateful for this meal.” Lucy said before Melinda could voice what she planned.  
“Thank you for the help.”  
When the men finished eating, the kids asked to leave the table. Melinda granted permission and got up. Lucy jumped to her feet, knocking the table by accident. She grabbed Melinda’s hand.  
“I’ll handle the dishes. You rest,” she said and collected the plain white china. Melinda hesitantly sat back down. When Lucy left for the kitchen, Micah leaned forward.  
“She been good to you, Melinda?” he asked. Lucy put the plates in a bucket and picked up a sponge.  
“Yes, of course. She’s a good woman.” Lucy rolled her eyes while scrubbing the dishes.  
“If she knit those drapes I saw in the bedroom, you’ve done a number on her,” Amos chuckled behind the wall. Lucy ran the sponge on the edges of the remaining plates and dipped them in clean water.  
“Yeah, she’s good with the hook. You wouldn’t believe how she is in a knife fight!”  
“I don’t think I would!”  
“Gentlemen, could we all please, just talk about something else.”  
Lucy didn’t put much effort in drying the dishes. She tossed the towel on the kitchen counter. “Yes, let’s talk about her lace window toppers, or anything her, without her in the room…” Lucy mumbled to herself, while setting glasses on a tray, along with a bottle of bourbon.  
When Lucy returned to the room, she was met with Melinda’s eyes. Squeezing a smile, she set the drinks on the tablecloth. She made one more trip to the kitchen with the pot of food and fed Mister Hairbell. The cat dashed to the dish. Lucy stored the rest of the food under the steps outside. The lid was heavy enough to keep away wild animals. When back at the table, a drink was waiting for her. She sat at her spot and chugged the whiskey down in one go, displaying her crave for an ease.  
Melinda loaned light to Lucy and shook the flame. Smells of white phosphorus drifted through the air.  
“So, Amos… What do you do to put food in the table nowadays?” Lucy asked her in-law, while pouring another drink.  
“Logistics. I deliver loads to the stores and such. In the summer I help at the local ranch. This and that.”  
“One ranch town, God knows we’ve got enough of those. Can’t believe where this country is going.” Micah mumbled, wiping crumbs down from the table with his hand.  
“Change’s not all bad. Have you told Micah about your side business, honey?” Everyone turned to look at Melinda. She tapped ashes in the large tray and straightened.  
“Oh, I started sowing clothes and selling them at the market.”  
“Is that so? Hm. I would’ve thought you was a domestic girl,” Micah teased.  
“Well, brother… We’re saving up for a move.” Amos folded his napkin.  
“A move?”  
“California. You know how chilled I get in the winters and um… We want to give our kids the long childhood they deserve,” Melinda said. Micah and Lucy looked at each other, unsure what to think. Amos slapped his brother hard in the back, making him jolt in his chair.  
“Ca… California?”  
“Are you opposed to education?” Lucy launched in. Melinda rolled the whiskey in her glass. The smug she failed miserably to hide made Lucy sick to her stomach.  
“I wouldn’t say that…”  
“It doesn’t change anything, mid-east-west… They spread their legs and fly the nest, sooner than you think. Thought you would know that.” Micah directed his words at Melinda, who let the liquor absorb in her gums before swallowing loudly.  
“I’m sorry you feel this way, brother. We’re just keeping an eye for the future.” Amos tapped Micah’s arm.  
Everyone had forgotten about Lucy. She checked the intense staring game going on, between her husband and the bitch on the other side of the table. Deep inside, she was glad. These two morons and their kids would be one less burden in her life. Her husband wasn’t feeling the same way. She could tell by the way he turned his legs away from the table and picked up the glass with white knuckles. Amos wiped his palms in his jeans. The silence was beyond awkward. Lucy poured everyone another round.  
Less than five drinks in, Melinda put the girls to bed. Amos and Micah were sitting at the table. Longings for shuteye, haunted the party of three. Lucy took her time on each glassful, making sure to stay sober enough. Micah watched her drinking, she was sure.  
“Have you stayed in contact with the old men?” Amos asked.  
“Not too much. I heard most got killed at a warehouse job last year.” Micah took a sip of whiskey. "Why you ask?"  
“No reason. Just that I did my morning round the other day and ran into Joe.” Amos rubbed his hands together, looking at the chandelier hanging from the ceiling.  
“Joe? What’s he doing in the mountains?” Micah lit his pipe and leaned back in his chair.  
“Getting arrested. Was in one of those prison wagons. Didn’t recognize me.”  
“Well, you’re a whole new man now.” Micah punctuated every word. Lucy, still baffled by his reaction to the parting of his family, blended herself with the wallpaper.  
“I am. Never liked him much, but seeing him in that wagon… Brother, ain’t no man to deserve treatment like such. We ditched a bullet, leaving that game behind.” Amos focused on his feet.  
“If one has beliefs. You never know what's coming.” Both men were thoughtful. Lucy lit a new smoke.  
“It’s been a long day. I think it’s time to turn in.” Amos picked up his hat and left the table with dragging steps.  
“Brother, would you close the door. The cat can be a little intrusive,” Lucy said and smiled.  
“Thanks Lucy. Good night.”  
“Sleep tight,” she said. Micah looked at his wife. She finished her drink and put out the cigarette. She wanted to talk but had no patience for his antagonizing. For now, all they could do was wait.  
After some time had passed, Amos hadn’t started snoring. Micah had smoked another bowlful. The ashtray had filled with long butts. Lucy had found a pack of cards and played pyramid. She stared at the remaining four cards on the table and turned spares one after the other. Having run out of moves, she collected the pack and mixed. She neatened the edges of the pile and crossed her arms.  
“Should we?” she asked.  
“When they sleep, we know. Let’s lay down for a bit. Maybe they’ll ease.”  
Lucy got up and waited for her husband.  
“Let’s leave our shoes in the kitchen,” she said. They left their boots at the kitchen door. Mister Hairbell was sleeping near the oven. The couple climbed upstairs. The spare room was at the end of the hall. Lucy didn’t fancy the idea of passing the master bedroom on the way down and up but didn’t have much of a choice. When she entered the room after her husband, she remembered. Micah gave her an eyebrow raise, when he saw the two beds, each against their own wall.  
It was too late to drag the beds together. Lucy pulled the mattresses on the floor. Laying down, Micah took her hand. His eyes refused to meet hers. She adjusted her pillow.  
“Who cares if they move,” she whispered and pressed a kiss on his neck. Micah didn’t say anything. His eyes were glassed by the long day. Lucy stroke his hand, crushing out the last crumbs of empathy through the touch. When Micah still laid in silence, Lucy focused on the sleep of the guests or lack there off. She could hear light footsteps, likely one of the daughter’s, moving in the room. The bed squeaked. A yawn.  
Lucy turned to her moping husband.  
“What’s wrong?” she whispered. Micah ignored the question and reached for his cigarettes. With one burning in his mouth, Lucy grew inpatient. She had seen how he looked at Melinda, the way Amos acted clueless. She snatched her hand from Micah’s and made a tight fist. “You can’t be in love with her?” Micah blinked once and took a long inhale. “You goddamn ass….” Like lightning, he turned towards her and blocked her mouth with a hand.  
“Shut up…” His eyes widened. A vein pulsed in Lucy’s head, fuming with rage. “This is not the time talk.” She briefly thought of biting his fingers but calmed down when Amos began to snore across the hall. Micah listened for a second and let go of his wife. She turned her back on him.  
Having spent some time in the spare room, Micah was now sure that the guests were sleeping. Lucy descended to the basement with him. The steps radiated cold. Both were in their socks. Lucy shook in the dropping temperature. The plank was lifted to reveal the carpet roll in the corner. Anger keeping her warm, she helped her husband drag the roll to the staircase. Taking one step at the time, Lucy’s heart rate rose at every pin dropping sound. They stopped several times to listen.  
Once outside, some ten minutes later, Lucy tossed Micah his boots and pulled on hers. Micah left to get the sled. Meanwhile, she guarded the body, swallowing her emotions. All she could think about was Melinda Bell and how much she hated her guts. Mister Hairbell scratched the door. Lucy cracked it open and let the cat out. Mister Hairbell rubbed its’ cheeks around her ankles. It soon spotted a bird and climbed up a tree. Lucy observed the hunting process, until Micah returned.  
Micah pulled the sled. Lucy calculated the distance from the house, ready to put him in his place. Snow crackled under her heels, frost burning her nose on every inhale.  
“My brother is a fool,” he began. Lucy sighed, shaking her head. Still, within hearing distance from the house. “You think I’m in love with her.” Micah spat on the snow and picked up speed. Lucy tailed him with persistence. “Insult me like that one more time and I’m…”  
“What the fuck is your problem, Micah Bell?” He stopped walking and glared at Lucy. “Your family owes me some respect! I’m helping you dispose a body for crying out loud!”  
“We wouldn’t need to dispose a body if you’d just…”  
“What? Be more like Melinda?” Micah started pulling the sled again and left Lucy standing on the jetty. A cloud of moisture formed around her face, as her breathing accelerated. Micah gained some distance. He then turned around.  
“You coming or not? Bring the ice pick.”  
Micah hammered a hole in the ice, far enough not to alert the guests. The lake reflected moonlight, lanterns were not needed. Lucy stood cross armed and smoked. She admired the clear sky with its’ many stars. Carrying the heavy tool for half a mile or so on thin ice, had made her less angry.  
“If you weren’t such a goddamn firework with your moods, I would’ve told you one or two things about Melinda.” Micah said, clearing away slush from the hole. Lucy tapped some ashes.  
“Tell me, tell me anything! Sick and tired of this horse shit.”  
“You gotta promise me, you won’t ruin this holiday too.”  
“Too?”

Micah turned to Lucy with a punch worthy face. She pinched the spark in her head, holding back the emotion. With a breath, she gave her promise.  
“Melinda is a whore. And I’d rather not hear your jealous accusations about her.” Micah said, lifting the corpse from the sled.  
“She’s been unfaithful?”  
“Indeed.”  
“To Amos? Somehow, doesn’t surprise me.”  
“No. Too bad, she’d made a great wife.”

“What did she do?”  
“Let’s sink this saint and then I’ll tell ya. Remember what you promised.”  
Lucy helped Micah push the carpet roll through the hole. Freezing water splashed on her dress as the corpse met its’ final resting place at the bottom of the lake. She tidied herself and picked up the yarn of the sled.  
“Micah, I have to tell you something.”  
“And that is?”  
“I didn't ruin our New year.”  
“Well, all I remember is you, attacking my old man. Yet again, I don’t know how many times I gotta apologize for the…”  
“I attacked him, I did. But it was not my beef.”  
“…”  
“He made a pass at Melinda.”  
“My father wouldn’t do that!”  
“It’s true! You gotta believe me!” Lucy stopped and looked at her husband. He started digging the snow with his heel.  
“He… It was five years ago, don’t you have better things to waste your time on?”  
“She could’ve said something! But no! Blaming me! All of you!” Both continued walking.  
“You could’ve told me! What did you attack my father for!”  
“You remember? That’s exactly what you told me five years ago! But you know what? I’d go back in time and do it again!” Her feet were taking her towards the jetty, fast. Micah stuck the ice pick under his arm and followed her.  
“Well, maybe you deserved to be tied up in that pantry,” Micah growled after her. She spun around.  
“Maybe you deserve to be left behind when your family leaves for California!”  
“Here we go…”  
“Why the hell do you even care? Your brother is a fool, his wife is a whore…”  
“Keep your goddamn mouth shut about my family!”  
“Your family are all lunatics!”  
“Well, you’re a face palm! But oh, my apologies, you’re good for one thing, sadly for you, it’s hindsight!”  
“Go to hell!”  
Lucy stamped through the yard and left the sled at the kitchen steps. She undressed her boots and carried them up the stairs. Worried about waking the idiots in the house with her puffing, she didn’t hear Micah enter the kitchen. He must’ve stayed back to cool his nerves, she thought. And that was fine for her. She entered the spare room and picked up the mattress. She assembled the sheets back on the bed and jumped in. Covering her face with a blanket, she screamed into the pillow. Tears soaked the cotton, cheeks were burning. She started counting backwards from one hundred.  
When Lucy had gotten past twenty, she heard the door open downstairs. Loosing track of the calculation, she turned the moist side of the pillow away and calmed her breathing. Micah’s spurs clung on the steps. She swallowed. Pretending to be asleep, she listened to him stop at the door. He whizzed and collected the remaining mattress and sheets from the floor. The bed on the opposite wall gave a squeak. He laid down and rubbed his mustache. Guns were left on the bedside table, the heavy man turned on his side. Exhaustion wore on Lucy’s eyelids.  
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. She didn’t give a damn.  
On the edge of a dream, Lucy woke once again.  
“Lucy… Lucy!”  
“What?” she snapped, probably too loud.  
“I love you.”  
Lucy’s heart could’ve melted, if she believed in such metaphors. Well, at least I don’t want to strangle him, and the wall is cold, she thought. She turned facing Micah and watched him, longing for her forgiveness. She sighed and lifted the blanket. The man got out of bed and sneaked to her. She squeezed herself against the wall and felt the bed springs suffer under his weight. She rested her head on his chest, appreciative of the warmth provided. He pulled her tighter against himself in the tiny bed and watched her drift off.


End file.
